


Not Without Her

by perfectchaosovesharmony



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, GlassBeliever, Henry-centric, One Shot, based on Henry's Perspective, set in 7x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectchaosovesharmony/pseuds/perfectchaosovesharmony
Summary: Set during the ending flashbacks of Ep 7x01Henry's perspective of before and after the Ball.





	Not Without Her

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't meant to be very serious, only a one-shot exploring how Henry's perspective is altered after meeting Cinder(Ella). Very canon very and doesn't really do much more, I just wrote this a while ago and wanted to post it. Enjoy and if you've any ideas or concepts please ask, I love requests for inspiration!

To be completely honest, he had no idea why he had gone after her. Cinderella – the thought immediately sent a faint reminder of the stiffness of his jaw, of the ache that crashed through his temple at the mere memory. She had a spectacular right hook if he was to be honest.

He had seen the glisten of the moonlight on the smooth body of his motorcycle propped securely along the shadow of the stables, carriages parked in neat lines along every side of the palace. He could feel his hand twitch as he glanced over it; not a scratch to be found.  
The distance from their encounter wasn't far, less than a mile across scattered woods that broke as it neared the castle walls, acting merely as a summer home. This world was still in summer, the crispness of the air, the sweltering heat died into the silver quiet of the night. She had managed to keep it steady, a slow enough speed to not sway from the road but fast enough to match that of a horse.

Her. Cinderella – of all people, he had managed to be robbed by one of the most marketed princesses his realm had ever known. He could almost find the courage to laugh, but the empty pocket of his trousers swallowed it back. Why would she need a dagger? One, that again, was stolen.

Digging his hand into his saddlebag which, thankfully, remained untouched, he drew out another jacket he had bought a realm or two back. After all, many stories featured luxurious events that his open-collared tunic and worn brown jacket and pants would cry inappropriate and draw quick attention to him, something his role could not afford. Ripping his jacket off and folding it before shoving it into his bag, he quickly threw the other, a rich cobalt color, over his shoulders.

He shook his head, muttered words of disbelief as he raced towards the entrance of the palace, slipping by a lavish couple or two before being met with the crowds that clung to the edge of the stairs, thankful to the lack of eyes on him besides a few young woman off to the side of the marble floors that were swallowed by a sea of coloured gowns and quick steps.

He made his way quickly into the crowds, slipping past relatively unnoticed through the crowds with muttered apologies and eager eyes, his throat tightened as he caught sight of a silvery-blue gown, collections of flowers bundled together along the wearer's shoulders and long chocolate curls that fell between her shoulder-blades.

He would never admit that his heart pounded as he made his way towards her, nor the way his eyes slipped slightly down from the back of her head, drawing over her shoulders and the soft touch of her skin that he found his throat tighten at the thought of touching. He shook away these thoughts, victim to the curl of his lip as he neared her, his heart threatened to clench as he swallowed thickly before alerting her with a light tap on her shoulder.

“May I have this dance?”

 

The leather of saddle was odd against the inside of his legs, the slight whines and splutters of his horse – his stolen horse – beneath him posed quite differently from the growls and coughs of his motorcycle, the roar of the engine echoed off into the darkness, lost amongst the bundles of trees. At one point, he had thought of the sound to be close, only to be wolves howl.

He tightened his ankles against the body of the horse, yanking the reins against his chest as he slowed, tearing himself off it as he stumbled to the ground. His muscles ached as he broke into a light jog, her name ripped at his lips.

“C-Cinderella?!” He panted for breath, the name soft and yet cracked his voice as he glanced around, searching for the beautiful warrior – god, he was doomed from the start – only to be met with the silence of the night. “Cinderella-!”

He growled to himself, pursing his lips as he searched every angle, every nook and tree for the sight of a silver gown or the growl of an engine. He could feel his stomach recoil, his heart thumped against the wall of his ribs, aching and forcing cold breaths.

He was alone.

“She... she didn't come.” He sighed, turning on his heel to reach the solemn expression of the stallion, his response came by a splutter. He gripped his hips, swallowing back the bitter taste on his lips, disappointment edged at his heart. “Oh course, she didn't come...”

His vision made another journey around the opening, the tarnished body of her carriage remained, glistening in the moonlight as moss and blue flowers covered over much of the ground. The wood land advanced, darkness reigned as the ground rose naturally to the higher land, stretching out back towards the castle grounds – now a murder scene.

Hope had fluttered in his chest, regaining the memories adrenaline forbade him from recalling sooner. She listened – she didn't kill the prince, and yet – Tremaine. He gritted his teeth, almost desperately scanning around once more in the corner of his eye. They would kill her if she was found, hunted for a crime she did not commit.

Anger threatened to consume him, his stomach burnt as fear sent him a sweat.

A dull buzz suddenly rang through the air, his hand plunged into his pocket as he yanked out his phone – his mothers had enchanted it, alongside Blue – to allow him to keep it's battery alive and his motorcycle's gas full. Much help it was now, he frowned as he slid his thumb over the screen, it blinked 12:00 as he felt a heat rise in the air.

He swallowed, a fixture of light flashed as a breeze overtook him, the stallion whined as golden portal flickered into existence, wind crashed and swirled around him. He lingered, his chest ached as he searched around for her once more. 

Fear spread through him. It was his only chance, a planned return between him and his family. They had worked tirelessly to connect the realms to afford him a portal, the differing of stories stretched far, much farther than they had ever gone before. He was in a different book, another collection of stories much like those of his family, but – he wanted her to go with him.

To find her second chance, like his mother and step-father, even though he had only known her for less than a day, it was different. His chest felt ready to collapse at the mere thought of never seeing her again – to never witness another curl of her lip, the flicker of mischief in her dark eyes and the soft touch of her honey-colored skin.

He had had crushes and other things before, that much he would admit. Through realms and extraordinary adventures, he had become accustomed to the possibility of relationships, to the likes of one-off's before he continued on, a bond formed through death-like circumstances that grew to more than attraction. He hadn't been looking for anything at these times, the emotions accidental or simple to escape the tiredness of his travels.

It was easy to fall into love, or more so in some cases, a realm of attraction where lines became blurred, friendships and companions offered more than just trust. He had experimented, sure, just as he could recall his family once claiming he would once of age – but for no-one, throughout any realm, had he felt like this before.

He had feelings for her, be it just attraction he wasn't sure. But all he knew was that his heart would ache forever more, it would push him to return and search, to fill him with a guilt that she had been captured, or hurt, or... she didn't feel as he did for her.

His heart ached as he stepped forward a step towards the golden glow, his boot stabbed into the dirt as he witnessed a flicker off into the uneven marsh, his limbs all but tore him toward it. His throat tightened as he found the source – light flickered off the glass surface, dressing the surrounding moss in a glow. He curled his fingers around it, rubbing them along the smooth surface.

Something lifted from his chest, something heavy and solemn, a darkness that threatened to swallow him whole – she had come. 

Hope eased his limbs as he rose back to his feet, casting his eyes over to the flickering portal, time not a luxury he had. His family was probably on the other side, awaiting him to pass through, to return to their lives. 

He stepped forward but lingered. His mothers, step-father, and grandparents... they were together, they were happy... but he quickly realized, as his heart ached and the wolves of the west mountains howled, that he could never be happy knowing that she had come.

She cared – to a certain degree, and perhaps... his heart fluttered with words his family claimed absolute truth since the curse had been broken, that love was to be fought for. He needed to find her – much like his grandparents assured themselves – and it consumed him. His story to her, of leaving a slipper so her prince could find her, rang in his ears.

He didn't care, not anymore as he tore a foot back, grasping the slipper in one hand as he faltered, watching the portal flicker back out of existence before him. To return home, to forget, was not something he could do without ripping his own heart out. He would return, he assured as the light escaped out into the night and he was left in the darkness with a broken carriage. He promised silently, praying that in some form of a miracle that his mothers would hear, as he glanced down to the slipper with a curl of his lip.

“Operation Glass-Slipper is a-go.” He muttered to himself, his throat dry as he quickly made his way back to the stallion, cries and the sounds of horses echoed through the air. He scrambled onto the saddle, shoving the slipper into the saddle bag as he stirred away from the clearing and jolted the stallion into a gallop.

He would return... but not without her.


End file.
